The Mushroom Kingdom: Darker and Edgier
by Rooster425
Summary: A grim, noir-esque re-imagining of the Nintendo mythos. Rated M for violence, language, and non-explicit sexual content.
1. Chapter 1

Oh, how the mighty hath fallen. Or rather, how high the weak have chosen to look up.

This kingdom has always been a festering mess, a wasteland of corruption and decadence. We merely fool ourselves, seeing the grim reality only when we've been knocked down, on our knees by the vicious reality of this existence, and the water comes rushing into the pathetic little shelter we've made for ourselves. The heartbeat of this grimy city has always been weak and diseased, and only when we stop lying to ourselves can we hear it for what it really is. The only difference between me and every sad sap I pass on this street is that I listen, I look, I touch.

As I pass the stores paying local crime lords to not rob them, as I pass alleys where drugs and money exchange hands by the most desperate of people, as I pass dark corners where the worst humankind can offer lie in wait to claim their prize, be it money or sex, I wish I were blind, deaf, and dumb. I wish that this accursed place had never pried my senses from their blissfully ignorant slumber, that I was still as happy as any fool who looked the other way.

When I close my eyes, he is still as clear as day. A young drag racer in his prime, caring only for the thrill of the road and his prize money. Women clamoured for him, sponsors lined up to get their few square feet on his car, and he hadn't a care in the world. His ignorant smile showed everything wrong with his complacent life, but with the success of his savant-like racing ability, he didn't care.

I can't even call it my story anymore, for it feels so long ago that it can't possibly be me. Everything was so different back when the sunlight actually seemed to make this putrid city seem brighter. But yes, I suppose that it still was me, as faint as it may seem.

On top of the world, it seemed, Captain Falcon, the break-out racing star of the Mushroom Kingdom. I don't even know why they started calling me "Captain", but it made me feel official, and it certainly beat "Falcon". Everything was perfect, except for one thing; this wasn't the town for fair players.

The Koopa Gang made it very clear that they owned the drag race circuit. When I began winning too often, they lost their patsy, the former champion "Samurai" Goroh. They needed to control whoever was on top, and that was me. I had two options; start paying them my dues and gain their protection, or they'd ensure I never raced again.

Idealism's a bitch, ain't it?

If Bowser had his way, I would be, too.

Such is the story of this whole damn kingdom. Beneath the blanket of sunlight that makes everything seem brighter lies a dark world, the real world. The underbelly of the kingdom is full of people fallen from a grace they never had. Drug dealers, strippers, and beggars, were all people trampled by the vicious reality of this accursed place. We weren't the bottom rung of the ladder, we were the people who knew our place. It's the poor fools thinking themselves any higher than us who are at fault. Only the powerful are exempt from this fucking misery.

You learn things when your senses are alert. A sentence passing by an alley, an exchange of goods between two people you may recognize, the rumours that your acquaintances have picked up. Suddenly, everything isn't so great. The wars between local stations aren't for ratings, they're because crime lords own the stations and want to syphon money from the competition. The most inept princess in the kingdom is only in control because the other two have "vanished", but few know just how foolish Princess Daisy really is, how easily she has become a pawn, her court full of lackeys from across the spectrum of scum in this town, all vying for control of her decisions. The few straight cops still on the beat have been so frightened by their corrupt colleagues that they themselves do nothing any more. Nothing is sacred any more.

What happens when the whole system, from the top down, is crawling with pure malevolence? You break free of everything and do your damnedest Idealism isn't refusing to do something wrong, it's giving up everything to do something right. It's the only hope this city still has.

So no, I won't race again. And I haven't since then, seeing as they destroyed the Blue Falcon. Instead, I'll vanish into the sea of filth and crime and decadence that is the inner city, and I will do my damnedest

The rumours abound; Captain Falcon, wandering the streets. It's an urban myth, everyone says, and nobody will admit that they were attacked by a man with a racing helmet and no weapons. For filth, they certainly have their pride.

They'll never find me, though. My helmet always covered my face, and I won't dare show it by the freeway anymore, meaning my face is just one in a million. A bowling bag hides the helmet perfectly, and a trench coat isn't an attention-getter, it's a damn season ticket to the roller coaster of debauchery that is the Mushroom Kingdom.

The convenience of it is, you don't have to look far to find somewhere to intervene. Just as I decided it was time to do some hunting, a scream, muffled a second after it began, rang from a nearby alley. I didn't have to think twice.

I ducked into the alley, tossing aside my trench coat and bowling bag as the darkness obscured me, hanging them on the bottom rung on an apartment balcony's ladder; at this hour, there was no reason anyone would use it. With my identity safe, my feet sprang to life, freed of their arbitrary prison. Under the cover of darkness my suit was invisible. My feet seemed to never actually touch the ground as I quickly gained ground on the attackers. Life in the darkness gave me the ability to see things much clearer in the muddled alleys, but even still I needed only find the source of their flashlights' spotlights.

Two Koopas, both wearing the obvious signs of Bowser's gang, had blades against a female Toad's neck as they pressed her against the wall. It was clear what they wanted to do, and it sickened me. Even in a city like this, a city built on lust for power, money, and flesh, where hookers were showing on every corner and strip clubs across the cost range were within spitting distance, the scum of this city think themselves entitled to those pleasures for free.

I sprung up, shouting as my foot connected with the first Koopa's head. Coming back, I pressed against the wall and repeated the process on the other Koopa. The sounds of metal clattering against the ground preceded the dull thuds of their shells following suit as the woman took the opportunity to run. With her out of the way, I could really lay the hurt on these thugs.

"What the fuck kind of nut job are you?" howled the second one down as the first grabbed his knife, not even rising to his feet the full way as he dove for me. Need I even bother dodging? With a swift swing, my foot sent the Koopa hurtling back into the other, and now it was my turn.

I curled my fist, breathing in heavily as I pulled back, my body heating up as the terrified Koopas watched, paralysed, bewildered, resigned to their fates. "Falcon..." I bellowed, and the deal was done.

**********************(scene break)**********************

With that business taken care of, it was time to check up on some things. The streets were rarely silent, but they were also rarely right. I trusted few sources to give me information, especially in a world dealing largely in deception.

Sidling up through the back of the building, I quickly scaled the ladder and balconies in total silence. As expected, the door was left unlocked for me, allowing me to slip right in to the pitch-black apartment. Sight wasn't the best indicator of activity in this place, though, and indeed the heavy scent of sweat told me something was up. Through an ajar door I could hear the unmistakable sound of flesh against flesh and the impassioned moans of two people in the throes of ecstasy. As I peered in, I could see a mass of flesh and a blonde ponytail writhing. The woman lay on top, riding him, with the top half of a skintight blue bikini the only thing on her body.

"Samus, if you'd please hurry up and kill him already, it's that time of the week."

"What? Kill me? Who the fuck are you?" asked a voice with the unmistakable accent of a northern kingdomer, likely one of Ganondorf's goons. Nothing followed except for a faint grown as the woman dismounted him, not even bothering to cover herself up. With her out of the way, I could clearly see his throat was slit clean across. He never stood a chance.

There stood one hell of a woman. Her long, curved form swayed as she walked toward me, her untarnishable smile betraying her disappointment that I ruined her fun so soon. "That's the third time in a row you've cut me short. I was hoping to actually have an orgasm tonight, you know."

Samus never lived under the idea that this was anything more than a shithole with a smile, but she milked it for all it was worth. A military elite turned woman of the street, Samus preferred to find her owns ways of dealing with the scum of the street. She was freelance, working clubs across the kingdom, and offering a service that gave her generous pay from every crime lord and small-time gang leader in the kingdom; a lap dance, a fuck, and an assassination. It was a great way to take out lower-level goons in need of silencing or even someone who knew her secret but also knew better than to resist the "generosity" of their superiors. Samus was mean. efficient, and did her job well even before the killing came into play.

"So what do you need to know?" she asked, sitting cross-legged at her sad excuse for a dinner table and lighting up a cigarette. It was a strange sight, someone opposing all the crime lords working for all of them, wanting something more while contributing to the decay that kept her down. It was a paradox in a world of paradoxes, and she was always good for information.

"Princess Zelda's still alive, and she's hiding out somewhere." I threw two coins onto the table.

"Yes." We didn't even ask questions any more, she would just tell me if I was right.

"Wario is trying to take Mario down and prove to Bowser that he deserves a promotion." Two more coins hit the table.

"Yes."

"There's only two straight cops left." My final two hit the table halfway and bounced to meet the others.

"No, one. Saki handed in his resignation yesterday."

"Still, pretty accurate by the streets' standards."

"Is that really all you've come for?" She asked. Now that business was dealt with, she had no reason to not try, since I gave her the coins. Her legs spread open and her entire face now moved to match her seductive smile. "On the house."

I turned around. "I've told you before, Samus. We both do what we have to, but what we had between us is, for the time being, over. You're losing your head in all this. Cut out this work and then we can."

"You know I can't do that, Falcon."

"You will," were my last words as I shut the door behind me, tightening my trench coast I moved down the metal stairs in the same silence I climbed them in. That was not the sight I wanted to see. I'd stick to my promise, though. Strange how I clung to what little faith I still had in people. In such an insane place, where the only standards anyone held were "survive" and "become more powerful", I seemed alone in my humanity. Well, not quite, and with Samus' words, I knew that there were a few people still left to invest my hopes in, and it was time to pay them visits.

**********************(scene break)**********************

If I gained one thing from my mad quest, it was a knowledge of the streets that few could best. All the buildings in this place look the same, but even without the numbers, I know what building has someone I need. An address is nothing when the building's signature is right there; the unique blend of whatever drugs they're cooking wafting into the street, the damage the face of the building has endured during gang fights, and the little markers all buildings have that denote exactly what lies within; whores, dealers, business...they become a much more reliable system than a number. It becomes a language by itself, a way of subtly dropping a location. When you opened yourself to that, you never paid too much attention to addresses.

I stepped into the old building, surprised the door was able to stay on its hinge as I pulled it open. This was the bottom of the barrel, the utter worst part of town. Not even most crime lords cared about controlling this part of town, but then again the cops wouldn't patrol here even without gang activity, which meant the whole place was crawling with Koopas. I was amazed; I thought I had a bad wake-up.

The peeling paint in the halls and the powerful smell of drugs confirmed that if there was any place in this fetid, lawless city that could be declared worse than another, this was surely it. Even with the cool air outside, it felt stagnantly hot, as if instead of walls were space heaters. It was overbearing, but I had to keep my trench coat on. This was not the place to go showing the sleek uniform beneath it.

I knocked on the door in a rapid pattern, assuring the people within that it was safe to open the door, and exactly what my business was. It was a necessary precaution in this world, for those who had no allies in high places, no real protection.

It took a moment, but finally I saw a small slit open in the door and a wide eye peer at me. The eye disappeared and the click told me that it was unlocked. I stepped in, closing the door silently.

"Who is it, 'Igi?" slurred a heavily accented voice. There, on the couch, sat a testament to the soul-crushing power of reality. A fat, mustachioed man in a grease-stained wife beater and jeans sat on the couch with a beer in his hand and a pile of them all over the floor. It was a sight that I found difficult to behold. One of the few people you could call a hero in this writhing mess of a kingdom had been hit worse than anyone.

Few people dared to stand up to Bowser back when Princess Peach was in charge. Mario was one of the few willing to fight him, and he did. Several times he ended up marching right into wherever she was held with a very small group of people, and rescuing her. With Daisy, however, he need not bother with kidnapping so long as his second-in-command Kamek acted as the princess's adviser. With his whole hero status down the shitter, Mario tried finding other work. He had many jobs, at one point even faking a medical licence, but the alcohol caught up with him every time. He couldn't stay sober, and eventually nobody would hire him, leaving Luigi to take care of him and scrounge up some money for his brother to drink away. Nothing could save him now.

"It's Falcon," his brother, a tall, skinnier man said without a hint of alcohol on his voice. Good, at least one of them was sober. "Do you have the information?"

I nodded. "Wario is looking to get a promotion out of Bowser, and the presence of this unknown gang is making things a lot harder for Bowser. He's too preoccupied to worry about things like that, so Wario needs a way to earn his favour. The rumours are true; Wario's coming for you two."

"Good," burped the fallen hero, tossing aside his empty bottle and moving right for another one. "Finally, a fucking vacation."

"Brother, don't talk like-"

"No! I've had it with all of this bullshit. Peach has been driven out of the kingdom, Bowser runs half this place like his personal fucking toilet, and I'm stuck on this fucking couch guzzling this piss water. I'm tired of it. Now get him the fuck out of here!"

"Brother, he's just-"

"Now!"

Luigi turned to me, but I understood. "He's turned his back on the kingdom when they need it most, and now the kingdom will turn his back onto him." I leaned in, saying in a much quieter tone, "I'm close, Luigi. I have a few people I can almost confirm. I'll try to send a couple over and hopefully stop Wario dead in his tracks."

Luigi shook his head. "What kind of insane world has this become, Falcon?"

"It's always been this way, but it won't for long." Again, much louder, I said, "Goodbye, 'hero'."

I could hear a bottle smash against the door as it shut behind me. In a town like this, we didn't have heroes. We just had people who took a while to crack.


	2. Chapter 2

This chapter shifts to Link's POV.

The Silent Orion: By all means, use it. I just threw Frank Miller character archetypes in with Smash Bros, so it's not like I'm going to get mad at someone else doing something similar.

**********************(scene break)**********************

Nothing is more nauseating than the stench of corruption, and all this street has come to know is that stench. How do you reconcile with yourself the decision to serve something built on corruption? The belief that you can do some good can only go so far. I see it all day long, the true power corruption has. It isolates and assimilates. The only hope you have is to get out of the water and seek higher ground.

Some poor bastards decide to fight it. Some even bury themselves as deep into the water as fucking possible, swim in the sea of destruction and greed. Sometimes, that rare, special swimmer comes along who doesn't soak up any moisture. Few last that far. This Kingdom is a rough sea, and its claws are everywhere, just looking for a stoic, resolute man to cut holes in, cut him right open, make him bleed, and fill the void with its dark waters.

It's a wonder I've lasted this long, especially as the claws draw nearer to me, multiplying. I lost the last good man today, leaving me alone in this unforgiving sea. Everyone on the streets knew it; Link, the last straight cop on the force. Amid liars, thieves, and in some cases even high-ranking mob officials, I just swam through, avoiding their piercing blades.

It only took a month. In rapid-fire succession, every clean cop was vanished, killed, crippled, gave in to the corruption, or resigned. With ruthless efficiency, everyone standing in the way was silenced, taken out of the picture. Only I remained.

As I opened the door to my dank apartment, heavy with the smell of tobacco and guilt, the carpet in front of the door in such disrepair that it set the stage for the train wreck I called home, a greater threat than corruption seemed to await me; the knowledge I have destroyed a life with my own hands.

"Oh, Link," cried a voice, already setting the scene as arms wrapped around me, a head of red hair pressed against my chest, almost as if to sink a knife into my heart. What she spoke with concern and joy to see me so much as stand, I felt was nothing short of hatred and bitterness. It was my fault she was here. "I'm so glad you're safe."

Problem was, she didn't hate me. Only I did.

Malon was the love of my life, and she was a wild soul. She was inherently good, incorruptible, like I was. But in a town like this, such innocence was never free. She was naive, childish almost. She wasn't glad I was safe because the entire police department was in mob hands and, as the last clean cop, I was an easy target. No, she was afraid I would be shot by some fleeing bank robber. Yeah, because the Mushroom Kingdom still had bank robbers with ski masks and guns; the thieves didn't need masks in this town.

Every night, she would run to me when I came home and hold me close, and every night, I hate myself. Hate myself for pulling her away from her small, secluded farm life, where she was safe, for bringing her to this horrible city to chase our dreams; her dream, my dream. It wasn't anyone's dream any more, it was a nightmare, Malon have to endure this lifestyle the main attraction. It seemed so good an idea at the time.

The starry-eyed rookie, an excellent shot with a bow and a remarkable swordsman, but with no place in the world. The royal Hylian guard had disassembled when the Mushroom Kingdom overtook it, leaving only the royal police force of the Mushroom Kingdom. It seemed like the logical place for me, but they wanted me posted in Mushroom City proper. Not one to complain, I whisked my blushing bride with me, and all was fine.

It killed me to see her smile, to see her as absolutely radiant a woman as she was when we came here four years ago. She hadn't let this cruel reality crush her because she hadn't yet seen the cruelty this world is built on. I wonder, sometimes, if she ever will. Maybe for the better; we could leave. Go back to Hyrule, back to her family's farm. I would trade a lifetime of milking cows and hauling feed to keep Malon safe, to give us the life she deserves, a life away from all of this.

"I'll always be safe, Malon, but sit down, I think we need to talk."

"Is something wrong?" she asked, pulling away, her face so beautiful, innocent...she didn't deserve any of this.

"No, but I don't think this job is working out. I think maybe we should go back home."

"But I thought-"

My phone cut her off. I groaned, reaching into my pocket and pulling the damn thing out. Who the hell was interrupting me now?

"Link!" barked the phone before I had any chance to say anything, "You're needed at the station. Stop dicking around and get over here."

"Chief DK, my shift is over and-"

"Now! This is very important."

I groaned as the sound of the phone smashing against the receiver played loudly through the phone. "I have to go to work for a bit, but I'll be back." I held her close. "Listen, no matter what, I want you to know that I love you, and I only want what's best for you. I just think this city isn't right for us." I kissed her, fighting back the tear in my eye as I repeated the words, "I love you."

**********************(scene break)**********************

The walk to the station always showed me how low we had fallen. The corruption and decay the police department had embraced was only a symptom of this place, this black sea. The streets were just as bad, as was any building that had opened its doors and windows, letting the water fill every corner of this town. I felt responsible; how do you stop rape and theft when it makes you the enemy? I hadn't made an arrest in weeks out of fear for what would happen. I wasn't supposed to do police work, I was supposed to let crime continue. I wasn't supposed to stop rapes, I was supposed to high-five the sick fuck and ask him if he wanted a smoke. I wasn't a cop, I was a damn concierge for every piece of scum wanting to make it big at everyone else's expense.

I spent every patrol shift hidden away, eating in some end-of-the-line diner or hiding out with another clean cop. But now those options were gone. I was too far from shore to have any support. I had to take Malon and what little we could carry and make a mad dash for shore, hope that there hadn't been a flood. I would hand in my resignation and get the hell out. We were both in trouble the longer I stayed here. It was inevitable. I was the last piece of the puzzle that needed dealing with; one way or another, there wouldn't be any more straight cops on the force. I just hoped that I could hand in the resignation before the order is put out on me.

It was sort of funny; the reason I joined the force is now the reason I can do nothing. Everyone knew there were vigilantes; street people and rich, jobless weirdos, taking the law into their own hands. The accursed badge hanging from my tunic mocked me. It was what kept me from doing good. How dare a cop bring in a couple of muggers when those goons are working for Bowser? That kremling drug dealer's one of Ridley's sellers, and Ridley pays us, so leave him alone. That Koopa wasn't raping the girl, they were just role-playing. Slap him on the wrist for indecent exposure and set him free.

It made me sick.

I wondered any more if I still had the capacity to dream, to smile. It seemed the only source of hope and light in my life was Malon. That's something to live for, right? There's a future there, something to-

My thoughts got cut off as a hand emerged from an alley I passed my, grabbing my mouth. Another grasped my sword before I could grab it. "Come with me quietly. I promise I'm not out to hurt you, but we can't talk in the middle of the street."

With the phantom hands around me, I had no choice. I stepped into the darkness, noting the hands were wrapped in strips of white cloth that extended up the arm. Strange folk living in this town.

Finally the hands withdrew when we were safely in the alley, hidden by shadows. I still couldn't make out the strange person, not even a gender or general body type, the darkness keeping everything hidden. Just to be safe, I pressed my back against the wall of the apartment building and drew my sword.

"You can't go to the station," said the voice. It was certainly a fake one, sounding like a woman's crude imitation of a male voice, but I long stopped learning to trust the obvious. That in itself could have been a ruse.

"Why?" I didn't need someone to tell me in a room with corrupt cops was a bad idea, but that didn't make this tidbit of advice any less suspect.

"You're going to have two options waiting for you when you do. You'll either accept the corruption or you'll be shot."

"No, I'm leaving. I'm handing in my resignation and I'm leaving this city." I said the words not to placate this strange messenger, but just because the words themselves made my chest swell up with pride. I could live a normal life. Malon could live a normal life. The words sounded so great I wanted to repeat them.

"They won't take that answer, Link. You're too valuable. You've got a great shot with that bow and excellent sword skills. You're quite the hot commodity, and right now the gang lords need all the fighters they can get."

"No, I'm leaving. I'm handing in my resignation and I'm leaving this city." I repeated it, hoping with every fibre of my being that it would make things easier. I was worried about this exact thing; what if they did kill me? No questions, no warning, just a bullet to the head?

The shadowed figure scoffed. "This isn't about the city any more, Link. What used to be Hyrule has been levelled. Ganondorf's set up a crime empire there that's threatening to devour the table scraps this city will turn into. There's a war brewing, and if the world doesn't end after it's done, life's going to get a whole lot worse."

"No, I'm leaving. I'm handing in my resignation and I'm leaving this city." It was the only thing keeping me sane.

"Then go. Don't go to the station. Run back home, take Malon and whatever you can carry, and head west. The route through Kokiri forest isn't patrolled. Go through the forest and keep heading west until you come to Termina. There's hope there, hope that can save us from this war."

"Who are you?" I asked. I knew I shouldn't trust someone, but whoever this person was had given me the best advice possible, even if it was a lie.

"A friend. I don't have time to explain. Just go home now, take Malon, and flee. Don't wait until morning, they'll be sure to barrel down your door when you don't show at the station. Run!."

I ran. Termina was the province west of Hyrule, deemed unworthy of conquering by the king of the Mushroom Kingdom, and so it remained free, and at the moment my sole beacon of hope. I just had to get home and try to explain this to Malon. We were free. There was hope. Everything would be fine.

The dark, grime-stained streets ran by me as I raced down them. Freedom was in sight. There was hope. Everything would be fine.

Into the apartment building where I greeted the torn excuse for a carpet in the hallway with the joy of seeing an old friend once again. Everything would be-

The door. It was open. Just slightly, but it was open. Even if I left it open, Malon would have closed it.

No.

I drew my sword and kicked the door open, my eyes running across the apartment. It was lit as usual, but Malon wasn't there to greet me. A strange smell hung in the air. It was familiar, but my mind refused to tell me what it was, as if sparing me the pain of the truth. I ran into our bedroom, recoiling in horror at what lay before me.

**********************(scene break)**********************

"The police aren't letting our cameras into the room, claiming it's too gruesome to air on television. What they will say is that Officer Link's wife was brutally tortured, bludgeoned with mallets, suspended from the ceiling with hooks, and possibly sexually mutilated. The police are not going into very much detail yet about the extent of mutilation, but one officer told me that they have never seen such a horrific scene."

It was on every channel; police officer's wife sexually tortured and killed. It was inescapable, story of the hour. Even in this back-end bar as I swallowed down some watered-down brew with disgust, it was on the television. They told me to get away from the apartment, to let them handle it. I was all too glad to; I knew damn well that they were involved. I would have to go down in the morning to make a statement, and that's when they'd make the offer. They wanted me gone so they could destroy the one good thing in my life. If they severed my tie to humanity, maybe things would change.

They were right. Things were going to change, but it wouldn't be that I would accept drug money.

It was time to clean up the streets of the Mushroom Kingdom.


End file.
